


bringing home the rain

by SnailArmy



Series: Mechs Femslash 2020 [3]
Category: High Noon Over Camelot - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, F/F, Implied Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26134660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnailArmy/pseuds/SnailArmy
Summary: apparently my type is "morally dubious lesbian business partners try to take advantage of each other but accidentally catch feelings"this was written for the prompt "family" and i SWEAR it was going to be more about the Stone family but then it super wasn't
Relationships: Lavinia Stone/Vivian Nimue
Series: Mechs Femslash 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896217
Kudos: 16
Collections: Mechanisms Femslash Week 2020





	bringing home the rain

**Author's Note:**

> idk guys i wrote this at like 11pm, let me know if i missed any tags
> 
> title from Bringin Home The Rain by the Builders and the Butchers which is a very good jonny vangelis song so you should listen to it and think about him. this fic is not about him

Who could love the woman who is a river? Ever changing, constantly moving, following the path of least resistance to any place so long as it is outside your grasp. Whose murky depths will lure you in and fill your lungs until your life is hers entirely.

Who could love the woman who is a stone? Never changing, unable to be moved, unyielding to tender touch as well as harsh. Whose unbroken walls cannot fall, for there is nothing hidden behind them; her core is solid rock, without the smallest space for another to rest inside.

\--

Lavinia Stone had always known what she was doing in life. She was going to build a legacy. Camelot was her town, as it had been her grandmothers' before her, but she was going to put it on the map, make it a place worth keeping. There was only one thing that could stave off the rust and decay that gnawed at the bones of her home. Camelot needed water. 

Finding water was the easy part; everyone knew where the flooded sectors were. They also knew exactly who ruled them. The Lady of the Lake, with an ancient and powerful weapon none could stand against, and those loyal to her (or to her resources). Fighting her directly wasn't an option, not with the thin and aging population of her town. So Lavinia struck out to bargain. 

Vivian Nimue doesn't remember, now, why she didn't pull the trigger on the woman when she had the chance. Something in the way she approached. Not fearless, per say, but with a gait that betrayed a multitude of calculated, justified, and dismissed fears. This woman knew what she wanted, and knew what she was risking to get it. Vivian liked that in a person. At least, looking back, she remembers liking that in Lavinia. There had to have been _some_ redeeming quality. 

Because, for whatever reason, she listened to what she had to say. And she agreed. Pipes were laid, water was directed to Camelot. Whatever Vivian received in return wasn't nearly enough. Somehow, though, with every meeting to discuss logistics and negotiate, Vivian found herself ever more eager for the next one. 

That didn't explain how she found herself in Lavinia's bed the first time, nor the second time. By the third time Vivian was starting to suspect that she had caught feelings for the ambitious sherriff. She never mentioned this to Lavinia, of course. The woman's ego was bad enough already. 

Vivian knew it wouldn't last. There was a damn good reason she kept her feelings at arm's length, and it rhymed with "shelf-reservation." Still, once the final pipes were laid and water ran once more through the veins of Camelot, she couldn't deny the pain when she saw Lavinia's gaze go stony once more. 

"I reckon that's the end of our partnership, then." Lavinia said, watching the first rusty trickle of water run through the pump. 

"Reckon so." Vivian tried to keep her voice neutral, she really did, but she had never been adept at concealing her emotions. It was one more thing she admired about Lavinia. 

Lavinia had the gall to smile at her. "Don't go gettin yerself all choked up over me now. Ain't like I'm goin nowhere." 

Was that... an invitation? For a moment Vivian considered it, nights spent in a dry bed with a warm body by her side. But the dust of the wastes had never agreed with her constitution. "I know my place, Lavinia. This town ain't big enough for the two of us." 

Stone paused, and Vivian fancied she could see the slightest crack in her demeanor. Was she disappointed? But it was gone as soon as it had appeared, and she was unreadable again. "Understandable. But I owe you one, and I expect you to come callin'." 

Vivian Nimue never did go back to Camelot, in the end. Lavinia Stone held out hope, though, that someday the tides would turn once more in her favor. In fact, she held that hope until her dying day, until the moment when Arthur Pendragon walked into her town with a clarent ten caliber railgun hanging from his hip. That was when she knew she had lost.


End file.
